


By the Embers

by KumoriNoNai



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Introspection, cleric, commission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 20:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20121118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KumoriNoNai/pseuds/KumoriNoNai
Summary: Raeryonn has a moment to himself





	By the Embers

**Author's Note:**

> A commission for the lovely @hyoujisama

Unsettling, might be the best way to describe it. Unsettling how this small pack of strangers had placed their faith in him so easily this nightfall. Whether or not he had any intention of breaking that trust was irrelevant, it was simply an act of stupidity on their behalf. In all honesty, there wasn’t a single moment where he’d considered swiping their pouches and running off, or even abandoning them at the first sign of danger. But the mere suggestion of expecting him to put his life on the line as they slept comfortably? Unlikely.

Raeryonn slowly cast his eyes over each of the individuals that were, for now, considered his “companions”. His naturally squinched eyes narrowing even further at the recklessness of these morons. If asked, he’d easily be able to recount the exact number of times he’d been in this kind of situation. Including the inevitability of each unfortunate ending. Of course, by now he’d given up on trying to divert them from whatever tragic fate was in store for them. After a while he’d simply come to understand that prevention was hardly ever the “style” of these people.

So far, he’d been in quite a number of these haphazardly recruited parties, offering his services as a cleric for some humble coin. And even if initially only for self-preservation, he’d never forgotten a face. Especially of those pitiful ones that lost their chance to do better next time. In the end, they were all very similar. Young and naive warriors, longing to be immortalised in the poetry of bards. To bring riches to their loved ones and fame to their bloodline. Fools, every single one of them.

Even so, he might have to consider himself the most foolish one of all. For he actually envied them. He envied their innocent belief in how the righteous would always prevail. In how nothing but success awaits those who are willing to put in the effort. Every time he heard one of those self designated company leaders proclaim how a bright morrow was on the rise, he thought how nice it must be to actually believe such nonsense. And then, of course, he’d get reproached for commenting on the simplicity of their minds. 

Mindlessly nudging one of the logs deeper into the flames of the campfire he wondered if he’d ever been like that. Had there been a moment in his life where he truly believed everything would be alright, no matter what? Somewhere, during those years of being shunned, rejected, forced to live off whatever mouldy rests he could scavenge, did he ever feel that childlike hope?

When he’d only just begun applying for these recruitments, he felt all of these idiots deserved nothing short of a good beating so they’d grow some common sense. As time passed however, he’d come to realise the harshness of reality had simply often gotten lost on these privileged, inexperienced individuals. He could hardly blame them. Of course one would start to believe they could single-handedly change the world if only told sufficient times. In the end, all he could really do for them was to be there when the worst came to happen, to scold them when they took things too far, and to offer solutions when all seemed lost.

But despite his oath to diligently aid the less fortunate souls, after having experienced so many of these parties he was starting to feel what he could only describe as “indifference”. Almost like he was no longer part of their endeavor, but a mere spectator. As if his body was present, but his mind was watching the story unfold from a distance. And although he would never willingly admit it, it worried him. For what would become of him if all he valued, if his devotion fell apart? If his deity no longer considered him worthy of grace? What would be left of him?


End file.
